and more fic!
Some thoughtful, slightly fluffy tidbits about Newt and Anathema. Because they are awesome and need more love, not to mention ficcage. :D
The first is a drabble for my s-adjectives collection (previously known as home, now known as somewhere, because alliteration is amazing). Anathema/Newt, focusing on Newt.
The second is more Anathema-centric and was written purely because I adore her character and am mildly curious about the whole prophecy business. I'd like to expand on it later if I ever get around to it.
Author babbling aside, here they are!
Title: Strong
Author: m_erechyn
Rating: G
Pairing: Anathema/Newt
Disclaimer: I am not Terry Pratchett, nor am I Neil Gaiman. Though that would be really cool. So yeah. Not mine.
s t r o n g
At first glance, Newton Pulsifer does not look particularly formidable. Actually, at first glance Newton Pulsifer does not look like much of anything.
He has plain dark hair, unassuming eyes, and a nondescript nose. He is tall and lanky and his mouth tends to droop down at the corners, as if it is tired of being on such a face.
Except when he’s with Anathema. He lights up, glows with that funny feeling one might call love. Newt could move mountains for her, and he would, if she asked. Not that Anathema would ever ask for such a ridiculous thing.
(Watch the two together long enough, and you might begin to understand that inner strength. A thousand years ago, he might have been considered a hero, a David to the world’s Goliath. But today?
Today he’s just Newton Pulsifer, another boy in love.)
Title: Uh. Let's go with untitled. :D
Author: m_erechyn
Rating: G
Pairing: None, canon A/N doesn't really count.
Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine. :0
Anathema often wonders what Agnes thought of the lives her descendants led. She doesn’t know how Agnes saw the future, but likens it to looking through a spyglass, only backwards: everything tiny and confusing.
Anathema used to live her life by the prophecies. She’d read from them as a child, carefully planned her future according to the age-old lines. It was all supposed to end three days ago. The whole world was supposed to end, three days ago.
But there were new prophecies. Somehow. Anathema doesn’t know how Agnes managed it all, and if she thinks about it too much she gets confused and has to take Phaeton out for a ride around Tadfield.
Still, the fact remains that the package had arrived at her house, the day after the Almost-Armageddon, and Anathema had known what was inside. Newt had made her-no, he’d asked her-to get rid of the Book. She can understand why. And yet.
Anathema had wanted so desperately to take a look, just a glimpse, but something stopped her. She burned the Book-and it was painful to do-without ever looking inside.
And now there are no more prophecies.
Anathema can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a bad one.
Sometimes Anathema feels lost without them. It’s only natural. She’s lived her life by them. They ended, but her life didn’t. Life goes on. It’s a little overwhelming.
Anathema lives her life as best as she can, now. It’s hard without the ancient ink to guide her, but she doesn’t really have a choice.
She wonders, sometimes, if Agnes had seen this future.
She wonders what Agnes thought of it all.
Someday Anathema would like to ask Agnes about everything. Somehow. She’s psychic, she can manage. But for now? She’ll live.
Today is still the first day of the rest of her life, after all.
(Even if she abhors that expression.)
The first is a drabble for my s-adjectives collection (previously known as home, now known as somewhere, because alliteration is amazing). Anathema/Newt, focusing on Newt.
The second is more Anathema-centric and was written purely because I adore her character and am mildly curious about the whole prophecy business. I'd like to expand on it later if I ever get around to it.
Author babbling aside, here they are!
Title: Strong
Author: m_erechyn
Rating: G
Pairing: Anathema/Newt
Disclaimer: I am not Terry Pratchett, nor am I Neil Gaiman. Though that would be really cool. So yeah. Not mine.
s t r o n g
At first glance, Newton Pulsifer does not look particularly formidable. Actually, at first glance Newton Pulsifer does not look like much of anything.
He has plain dark hair, unassuming eyes, and a nondescript nose. He is tall and lanky and his mouth tends to droop down at the corners, as if it is tired of being on such a face.
Except when he’s with Anathema. He lights up, glows with that funny feeling one might call love. Newt could move mountains for her, and he would, if she asked. Not that Anathema would ever ask for such a ridiculous thing.
(Watch the two together long enough, and you might begin to understand that inner strength. A thousand years ago, he might have been considered a hero, a David to the world’s Goliath. But today?
Today he’s just Newton Pulsifer, another boy in love.)
Title: Uh. Let's go with untitled. :D
Author: m_erechyn
Rating: G
Pairing: None, canon A/N doesn't really count.
Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine. :0
Anathema often wonders what Agnes thought of the lives her descendants led. She doesn’t know how Agnes saw the future, but likens it to looking through a spyglass, only backwards: everything tiny and confusing.
Anathema used to live her life by the prophecies. She’d read from them as a child, carefully planned her future according to the age-old lines. It was all supposed to end three days ago. The whole world was supposed to end, three days ago.
But there were new prophecies. Somehow. Anathema doesn’t know how Agnes managed it all, and if she thinks about it too much she gets confused and has to take Phaeton out for a ride around Tadfield.
Still, the fact remains that the package had arrived at her house, the day after the Almost-Armageddon, and Anathema had known what was inside. Newt had made her-no, he’d asked her-to get rid of the Book. She can understand why. And yet.
Anathema had wanted so desperately to take a look, just a glimpse, but something stopped her. She burned the Book-and it was painful to do-without ever looking inside.
And now there are no more prophecies.
Anathema can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a bad one.
Sometimes Anathema feels lost without them. It’s only natural. She’s lived her life by them. They ended, but her life didn’t. Life goes on. It’s a little overwhelming.
Anathema lives her life as best as she can, now. It’s hard without the ancient ink to guide her, but she doesn’t really have a choice.
She wonders, sometimes, if Agnes had seen this future.
She wonders what Agnes thought of it all.
Someday Anathema would like to ask Agnes about everything. Somehow. She’s psychic, she can manage. But for now? She’ll live.
Today is still the first day of the rest of her life, after all.
(Even if she abhors that expression.)